


The Pearl Necklace

by TheCatThatWrites



Series: The Pearl Necklace [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, F/M, Martha Wayne Lives, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCatThatWrites/pseuds/TheCatThatWrites
Summary: It's one thing to awaken in a hospital bed. It's another one to find out you're now the most infamous mother in comic book history... and you shouldn't even be alive.(Or, a comic book fan awakes as Martha Wayne neé Kane, three days after the shooting takes place)
Relationships: Martha Wayne/Thomas Wayne, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Pearl Necklace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780123
Comments: 31
Kudos: 148





	1. Wandering Soul

My name wasn't always Martha Wayne. I remember a time where I went by Alma Bunker, although if the fact that I recall it perfectly is a blessing or a curse, I can't say. I didn't even want this fate, but now that I have it, I find myself at war. Should I return to my original universe with my old family and friends or stay in the DC universe with the family and friends I made? I can't exactly stay here in limbo and the Presence's patience is running out.  
How did Alma Bunker become one with Martha Wayne? All those years ago seemed to have happened only yesterday.

Now, I don't recall every little detail of my old life, mind you. What I do know is that I was only supposed to withdraw some money from the bank. I had even gotten a bit early to get over it as quickly as possible.  
When I arrived there were only two other people waiting in line. The clicking of my heels filled the otherwise silent building, making me feel a little self-conscious even though I knew no one was looking at me. Once I reached the line my mind immediatly started to wander, looking around for anything of note.  
It was clear someone cared a little too much about the cleanliness of the building. I could clearly see my blonde locks in the marble floor. I took the opportunity to discreetely move the wildest ones behind my ear. 

I didn't want to have any setbacks that day. You see, the birthday of my favorite nephew was fast approaching, and I meant to buy his gift after getting some things done at the bank. What did five year olds like to do anyways? Maybe I was biased, but I was tempted to buy Nathan some Batman merch. You can never go wrong with superhero-themed gifts. Maybe...

Someone shrieked behind me.

I turned around only to find four guys wearing cheap Halloween masks and whipping guns around. One of them took the lead, "Put your arms up! Move! This is a robbery!"  
I felt as if my heart would beat out of my chest. There was commotion all around me. The woman in front of me immediatly dropped to the floor.  
A man in a suit attempted to make a run for the exit only to get shot by the guy wearing a pumpkin mask. 

'Oh my god. I am going to die.'  
My breathing became labored and I started to shake. It was then that one of the robbers wearing a clown mask took notice of me.  
"Didn't you hear?! To the floor!" he said as he pointed the gun at me.  
For some reason I found myself unable to move, feeling pathetic as I started to sob.  
"Fuck it."

I felt the bang in my very being.  
"AGH!"  
Clutching my stomach, I dropped to my knees. My purse fell besides me and I noticed my pained expression in the floor; especially when the red drops of blood started to mix with the white marble.  
I was barely aware of the screams around me when my face finally hit the floor.  
The hurt of the fall was minimal when compared to the pain I felt in my stomach. 

I felt the tears spring out of my eyes. I was really going to die. This was it. I would never see my parents or nephew or sister again. I would never get to marry Andrew. I was going to bleed out on the floor.  
This realization brought forth a new wave of tears to accompany my sobs.  
I never knew if my blurry vision was because of the pain, the tears or my inminent death, but it ended up blackening my sight until I felt no more.

Have you ever floated in a pool? If you have, you already have an idea of what being dead feels like. Except instead of water, there was nothing. And when I say nothing I mean nothing.  
There was no past, no future, and no present.  
...  
... ...  
Until there was.

The first memories of the new world are the beeping of a machine. For some reason my body hurt, but I couldn't remember why. I stayed with my eyes closed for a little while longer.  
I was on a bed, that's for sure. I felt strange things around my arms, like needles. A hospital, perhaps? A spark of relief extended across my body.  
I had survived the bank robbery. I couldn't believe my luck.

I slowly opened my eyes, getting comfortable with the room's light. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the beeping came from one of those machines that indicated your heart pulse or something like that. I was covered in a thin, white blanket and had a hospital gown instead of my black jacket. Definitely a hospital.  
Sighing, I wondered if I should call for someone to let them know I was awake.  
I felt a strand of hair in my eye so I raised my hand to move it. This was my first clue that something was off.

You see, three weeks ago I had painted my nails a dark, green color, in recommendation of a friend. I had repainted them the same color two days ago.  
When I looked at my hand, my nails weren't painted at all. No, they were painted. But it was a transparent coating.  
At first I gave it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was common in hospitals to remove the nail polish or something? I wasn't an expert in the medical field at all so maybe it was a practice I didn't know about. 

The second clue of something wrong was the fact that the strand of hair I moved away was red. Auburn to be more exact. It took me a moment to process that.  
Wait a second! I didn't have auburn hair! I took the ponytail that my hair was in to my eyes. No way. This is auburn. I am a blonde. I. Am. A. Blonde.  
This is definitely auburn. What the fuck?!  
I took the blanket off of me. The wrongness of the situation sky rocketed. This body wasn't mine. This was a model's body.

I was never fat by any accounts, but this... This was the type of body that only appeared in the cover of women's magazines. It was... perfect. I reached to touch my limbs, stomach and face.  
This was all wrong.  
I was so immersed in my discoveries that I didn't hear the moment the beeping had started going faster, nor when the door of the room opened to reveal a nurse hurrying in.  
"This is wrong," I told her, "Something is wrong with me!"

As I tried to stand up to explain, the nurse tried to put me back on the bed. I took her by the arm to stop her, "This. Is. Wrong!" I cried.  
The nurse used a bit more force and I heard voices coming down the hallway to my room. I started to push the nurse away. Couldn't she see I was trying to explain? If she backed away for a few seconds I could show her why this was wrong. This wasn't my body. This wasn't me.  
The doctor, or at least I assumed he was by the white coat, entered the room along with another nurse. I tried to stand again but the nurse pushed me back while muttering something to me.

"There is a mix-up," I tried to explain to the doctor while holding a strand of my hair for him to see, "Something is wrong with me!"  
The doctor made a signal and the other nurse exited the room. He raised his hands in surrender and slowly approached me, "Calm down," he said as he walked closer, "We just want to help you. You are in a hospital. You got shot during a robbery. Do you remember anything?"

My breathing slowed down. I hadn't realized I was so tense. The nurse stepped away slowly and I felt more free. I sinked on the bed bit by bit.  
Yes, a robbery. I was shot in the bank. This is why I'm in the hospital. But I already knew that, I wanted to know what happened to my body.  
I hastily nodded to the doctor and opened my mouth to explain my problem, but he interrupted me, "I'm sure you want to see your family, but first I need to explain some things. And I can't do that if you don't calm down."

I gripped the blanket near me and started to inhale and exhale slowly. One, two, three, four, five... My family is already here... Five, four, three, two, one... Everything will be explained.  
The nurse had moved on to adjust something in the catheter near my arm. Was I seriously trying to get up while that thing was latched to my body? What was I thinking?  
I turned back to the doctor to notice he had slided a chair near me. He was biting his lip and his brows were furrowed. My heart started to accelerate again before I tried to calm myself once more.  
One, two, three, four, five...

This all felt like a fever dream.

I exhaled one last time before looking at the doctor again. He put his glasses on and rubbed his hands together, "Now, delivering bad news is always one of the worst parts of being a doctor. However, it falls on us to inform the patient. First, the one concerning your well-being", at my furrowed brow, the doctor sighed heavily, "Mrs Wayne, we regret to inform you that you lost the baby."


	2. Lost Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support so far! Here Martha/Alma will be meeting her first relative.

"...What?"

Maybe not the best answer I could have given, but I really had no idea what the doctor was talking about. (As far as I knew) I wasn't pregnant. Me and Andrew always made sure to use protection. I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling stitches that I hadn't felt the first time. _'Could it be...?'_ No. We were always careful. It was impossible. _'So, what...?'_  
My mind replayed the message. 'Mrs Wayne?' My last name was Bunker. This was clearly a misunderstanding.

"You have the wrong person," I explained to the doctor, feeling relief that the so-called baby wasn't mine. "My surname isn't Wayne."  
For some reason, the doctor looked more worried than before. I looked towards the nurse and she seemed more shocked than him. Hadn't they made a mistake here before?  
The doctor slightly leaned back on his chair, "By any chance, can you tell me your place of residence?"  
I recognized this as one of the questions they ask patients with amnesia. Dread pooled in my stomach, "Denver, Colorado."

The following silence seemed to extend for hours. By now, I was completely convinced that something paranormal was going on. How else could someone explain the change in appearance, the supposed baby and this huge mistake on my name? My fears were confirmed.  
"Far from it," said the doctor. "We are currently in Gotham City, New Jersey."  
 _'... Gotham City...?'_

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Gotham City. Mrs. Wayne. Martha Wayne. Shot like me. I think an incarnation of her was a redhead. I could be completely wrong about my conclusions, but just to be sure, I asked the doctor, "Yes, I remember now... Where is my husband?"  
At this, the doctor got grim once more and said, "Your husband, doctor Thomas Wayne, died due to a gunshot to the heart."

 _'Fuck... FUCK!_ '  
"We did everything we could," the doctor continued, oblivious to my mental breakdown, "but the bullet hit him straight in the heart. The paramedics-" I tuned the doctor out. This was too much of a coincidence.  
I lost the baby? Was he talking about Thomas Jr.? He always appeared now and then. What had happened?! It was clear I was in Martha Wayne's body but... I wasn't supposed to be alive. Martha Wayne died in Crime Alley, she didn't survive to be told her husband and unborn son had died. 

She... I survived. But what was the catch? Whenever DC Comics kept Martha or Thomas alive there was always a catch. Sometimes it would be Batman's existence. Others Bruce's death. On the most extreme cases it meant the destruction of the universe.  
What did it mean that I was here? Where...?

The doctor gently gripped my shoulder, "We understand that this can be a lot to process in one go. However, we need you to stay calm for-"  
"Where is my son?" I asked. "Where is Bruce?"  
At this, the doctor seemed more at ease, "He is currently in the cafeteria across the street with most of your family." The ghost of a smile appeared in his face as he slightly adjusted his glasses. "It's the first time someone managed to drag him out of your room in three days."

 _'Three days?!'_  
I didn't feel any personal connection to this Bruce, but I was sure it wasn't healthy for a six... seven... nine...? year old to be in a closed room next to his mother's unresponsive body for three days.   
The doctor brought me back to the present, "Do you think you are well enough to receive any visits? There are many people who have been worried about you. Of course, for the moment we would be letting in family members only."

Family members? He must be talking about the Kanes. I wondered if I would get the chance to see a small Kate. Still, the exhaustion of all this new information could be felt through my bones.   
"Could you... bring one person at a time?"

"Of course." The doctor motioned the brunette nurse to come closer, "Grace here will accompany you in case you suffer any sudden discomfort."  
I nodded and he left the room. Grace gave me what I supposed was a comforting smile and started to work on something in her clipboard.   
The first visitor came in sooner than I had expected.

An elegant woman with gray hair and piercing blue eyes stepped in. She wore her fine dress as if she had been born for the high society, and maybe she was. In a way I was reminded of sassy grandmas.  
"Is this the time to be laughing, Martha?" she asked.  
My smile vanished from my face. The nurse shifted in her corner of the room as the woman and I stared at each others eyes. After what seemed like forever, the elderly woman walked faster than I thought she could and hugged me fiercely.

On instinct alone I returned the hug. She smelled like lavender and something old, although I could not place my finger on it.  
"Oh, Martha. My sweet girl." The woman whispered in my hair. It became obvious that this was Martha's own mother; only a loving mother could emit such devotion towards a child.   
I got reminded of my deceased granny. Almost fading memories of a small house near a riverbank and afternoons filled with laughter and silly games with my cousins resurfaced in my memory. Nostalgia made my grip on Martha's mother tighter.  
How long had it been since my whole family got together with no holiday as a motive?   
It seemed only yesterday that granny had died.

Betsy Kane; I was sure her name was Betsy; finally let me go, only to take my face in her hands. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing, the clearest eyes I had ever seen. I hoped I had inhereited those eyes.  
"You are ok." She said, more to herself than I. Betsy shook her head and let me go, "Of course you are fine. We Kanes are made of stronger stuff."  
I decided to ignore the slight jab at Martha's... my...? husband. The one that just died, might I add.

She might have noticed my disapproval for she scoffed, "Don't even start. I always told you that man would bring you trouble. Now look what happened. The nerve of him! Abandoning you and your son! Poor child. He is the only good that came of your marriage. I hope this serves you as a lesson to-"

"Mother," I figured if I didn't intervene the woman would continue trash talking Thomas Wayne or whatever came to mind, "I'm in no mood to talk about Thomas right now."

"Of course you aren't." Betsy said as she finally sat in the chair next to my bed. 

For now, it would be best to go through safe topics, "How is everybody?"

"Be more specific, Martha."

"How are Bruce and my brothers?"

Betsy crossed her ankles, "Bruce has been a mess." Wow, no filter with this woman, "Rest assured, we have been taking care of him, although there have been some problems we had to fix with Thomas' wretched sister. You have a sweet and caring child."

 _'Wretched sister... did Agatha Wayne exist in this universe?'_  
I sighed, "And...?"

"Nathan, Philip and Jacob have been worried sick. They called, you know, and Jacob has been a regular visitor. He has even brought his darling daughters to accompany Bruce. Now, if only Nathan and Philip would settle down. Those two need a good woman in their lives to guide them once I'm gone."

The last declaration took me by surprise, "Don't say that, mother. You still have many years ahead."

Betsy surprised me once more by smiling, mirth filling her blue eyes. "I was merely being realistic. You know them too. Try to tell me I'm wrong."

She was lucky I did know them. Nathan Kane: Married someone way too young for him and tried to take over Wayne Enterprises, which led him to an early grave. Philip Kane: Actually took over Wayne Enterprises but worked with the Red Hood (the original one) and was led to an early grave.   
My only consolation was that Philip did care about his family; I didn't know Nathan enough to judge him.  
Even so, those two needed more than a 'good marriage' to set them on the right track. 

Betsy actually laughed beside me. It was the kind of laugh that prompted you to at least smile when you heard it. She proceeded to stand up from her chair and softly stroke my hair.  
"Anyways," she said, "everything worked out in the end."   
Betsy took her hand away and walked towards the door. I hadn't noticed it before, but she was carrying a cane with her. Not that she used it.   
_'Heh, Kane with a cane.'_

"I won't take more of your time. I am sure that Bruce has already been notified of your awakening and will want to see you." Betsy stopped mere inches from the handle and looked back, "I will come later, sweetie."

And with that, Betsy Kane was gone.

I looked away from the door and almost gasped in surprise when I saw Grace smiling warmly at the door. I had completely forgotten she was here.  
Grace caught me staring and she shrugged, "It always makes me happy to see the relief of family and friends when a patient gets better." She explained.

I didn't even get the chance to make small talk with her when the nurse that accompained the doctor earlier opened the door.  
"Mrs. Wayne? Your son is here to see you."


	3. Melting Dreams

Bruce Wayne looked just like my nephew. Black hair, skinny arms and never walking; just running slow. Upon a closer inspection, it became obvious that the main difference was that Bruce had those beautiful blue eyes that had captured my attention with Betsy, while my Nathan had my sister's brown eyes.

The only thing that clouded those eyes were the fact that they were red from crying. Bruce seemed to be fixed to the door, the only thing moving being his blue eyes as they moved from me, to the nurse, to the corridor behind him. He looked like he didn't believe that I was there, afraid that if he moved I would disappear.

I gave him an encouraging smile, "Bruce?"

That single word seemed to be the push he needed. The next second I found myself being sorrounded by two small arms, holding me as if I was the last lifesafer in the ocean.

"Oh! Be careful, love. Your mommy has stitches on her abdomen."

Grace's words made Bruce let go of me like a hot potato.

Bruce took a step back and started to play with his hands, "Sorry."

He looked so much like Nathan. Someone needed to cut the kid some slack. His father had just died and his mother had miraculously woken up from a coma.

I extended my hand at Bruce, "Hold my hand?"

He didn't need to be told twice. The physical contact just opened another watergate, since Bruce started sobbing almost immediatly. I adjusted myself better so that my other hand ruffled his hair.

"Want to stay with me?"

He nodded and extended his other hand to reach for Betsy's abandoned chair. I winced at the sound the chair made as it was dragged, but quickly hid it as Bruce turned to me again.

_'What am I supposed to say?'_

I didn't get the chance to talk when the next visitor came in.

The next visits felt like a fever dream. Other redheads (one of which ended up being Jacob Kane), business partners of Thomas, distant family members, high society members whom I was apparently close to and a lady that presented herself as Agatha Wayne. Most of them only said the formal niceties and presented their condolences over Thomas' death. Others left "get better soon" gifts and fancy bouquets behind. No matter the case, the same commentaries repeated itselves:

"When we heard about the incident, we were shocked..."

"If there is anything we can do..."

"The Waynes were always like family to us..."

"We will support you each step of the way..."

After the first four visitors, I was ready to quit. The whole time I never let go of Bruce's hand, who never said anything through the whole ordeal, only nodding his head and looking away now and then. It took me three more visitors to realize that whenever Bruce squeezed his hand a little bit harder, the person meant trouble... or they were just plain fake. He didn't seem aware of doing it, and I didn't feel like pointing it out. Right now, I just wanted to laid back and rest.

As the last of the visitor parade left, I released a sigh I didn't realize I was holding and laid back in my bed. I lazily followed Bruce's gaze as he swept the room. Apparenlty Grace the nurse had left between visit and visit. Huh.

When Bruce looked back at me, it was like someone had turned the "on" switch on his facial emotions. His eyes started to get red and his grip on me got tighter, so I used my free hand to laid his head on my shoulder. Bruce hugged my arm before starting to cry. It was in this tangled mess that I fell asleep.

* * *

_My sun hat was blocking my view, so I slightly raised it._

_Tommy had insisted on taking Bruce to the river near the manor today, even though it was scorching hot. I was perfectly fine under the shade of the trees, thank you very much. Even so, I couldn't help but smile as Bruce splashed water into Tommy's face. Not so funny when someone does it to you, huh? That should be punishment enough for Los Cabos._

_Their skins were already turning red... d-did they put their sunscreen on? I glanced at the unopened bottle. Well, the rashes would be their problem, not mine._

_"Mom! Come!"_

_"Martha! This boy doesn't believe that I can win at a swimming race against you."_

_I rolled my eyes at his smile, "That's because you can't," I replied._

_Bruce giggled like that was the funniest thing he had heard. Tommy raised an eyebrow mockingly, "Would you like to prove it?"_

_I reluctantly gazed at the thin line between my comfortable shadow and the scorching light. One step on the earth and it would burn my feet for sure._

_Against my better judgement, I raised from the towel I was sitting on. "I accept your challenge. Bruce, check he doesn't cheat."_

_Bruce nodded and continued to giggle, swimming to the border to act as referee._

_Oh, I was going to show him how it is done._

_After taking my sundress off to leave the swimsuit underneat, I jumped to the water._

* * *

And just as quickly, I woke up. This wasn't the first "Martha Dream" I had after waking up in this world four days ago. They usually came on nights when I was stressed, which was everynight.

It had become clear that I wasn't dreaming this reality. This was real. I had been talking to real persons about fictional problems. True, they were real to them, but not to me. Or at least, not anymore. I still expected to wake up in my apartment with my normal body. Not at a fancy bedroom with the body of a supermodel. I had stitches in my abdomen, but it was still a supermodel body.

The most evident proof that all of this was real was the seven year old boy sleeping in my bed. He had barely left my side after the first time I woke up at the hospital, only going away to go to the bathroom or to bring enternainment and snacks, which usually consisted of books and apple slices.

Doctor What's-His-Face had recommended that I rest for a few days before engaging in my usual activities, and with Bruce not being much of a talker, I was left with a lot of time to think. What happened to my other body? What about my family? Did everyone think I had died? Was I truly dead? Was this purgatory? What was real and what wasn't?

Most of the time my lines of thought stopped when I realized that Bruce had been staring at me for the past five minutes. I gave him a small smile and he returned to his book. Rinse and repeat.

The nights were the hardest part. It became a common occurence for me to calm Bruce down during a nightmare and hold his shivering body until morning.

Thankfully, I wasn't completely alone on this front. As the days passed, I became aware of how much of an angel-on-earth Alfred Pennyworth was. Not only did he do whatever usual chores he had, but also managed to get Bruce to go out of my bedroom now and then to do God knows what.

Then, it was my turn to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. I never forgot this story, but was getting things done before beginning university.   
> I didn't mention it, but Alma/Martha was ten days in a coma plus four awake. 
> 
> Well, until next time!


	4. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JUNE 12, 1984

Survival of the fittest. To survive, one must be able to adapt or die. And I, for once, wasn't planning on dying a second time.  
The more I thought about it, this second life of sorts was more of a blessing than a curse. I mean, unless I was having some kind of fever dream before properly dying, I had been basically reborn in a damn good position. Not everyone was lucky to awaken as a breath-taking woman with more money they could spend in a lifetime.

I know I may sound selfish, but what else was I supposed to think about this? It was either that, or thinking about the implications of this whole situation. That I have no way back home, that I'm possessing the body of a dead woman, that I'm interacting with fictional people in a daily basis, that-  
No, not going there.  
Just a few days ago, I had just managed to get enough energy to stand up from my bed and my catatonic state and take in about everything that was happening. Lucky for me, my shock was attributed to the aftermath of my (her?) almost-death. When in doubt, declare 'trauma'.

This whole thing was ridiculous. 1984? Huh? I had been a little girl when this year rolled by, not a widowed mother. A hot widow. When I walked to the bathroom during my first catatonic awakening I looked stylishly tired. If that was even possible. Bags under my eyes, messy, red hair and pale skin, sure, but in an I-woke-up-this-way way.  
Was this supposed to be comic book logic? So ridiculous.  
I may have giggled to myself in the isolation of that bathroom.

I stumbled out of Martha's bedroom to who knows where. Shit, everything looked fancy. I had once joked with fellow DC fans about how rich the Waynes where, but still...  
Fancy halls, fancy doors, fancy kitchen, fancy spoons...

"It is good to see you walking again, Mrs. Wayne."

Clutching the spoon like a weapon, I turned around to find Alfred with an unreadable expression on his face. I put the spoon back in the drawer, "I felt claustrophobic." I explained.  
After the first hazy days passed, that cursed bedroom had seemed to become smaller with each passing day. One more night there and this life wouldn't have lasted much either. 

That made me remember my little companion, "Where is Bruce?"

Alfred's smile didn't reach his eyes, "At a friend's house. Mrs. Elliot kindly offered to take care of him until you got better."

Elliot... shit. Tommy Elliot was fucking crazy. He is still a child, though...

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Wayne?"

My mind had wandered off again. I really must stop this new habit, "Yes, quite."  
To prove this, I stood straighter and offered him a gentle smile. They said that to get better one must first believe it, right? Well, the saying went something like that.  
"In fact," I added, "I think it's time Bruce and I had a little chat."


	5. Death and Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JUNE 14, 1984

It seemed I had gained conscience just in time to attend my husband's funeral. Alfred and doctor Leslie Thompkins were worried it would damage my mental recovery but I insisted to come. I didn't feel any love for the man but maybe the piece of Martha inside me needed closure.  
It was the least I could do after stealing her body.

Maybe I had saved her? Maybe Martha Wayne was already dead and I was wearing a corpse. Only her remains remained as bits and pieces of memories and dreams. Or maybe I had suppressed her? Me, the unknown jailer and her, the screaming prisoner.  
Probably not the best thing to think about in a funeral. Could you blame me? I had been standing in the rain for three hours as everyone said their final farewells for a man I never knew.  
Not only that, but I had to suffer through people telling me how sorry they were and how they would pray for my family.  
I didn't even know them.

No. I stood as a marble statue in a sea of black-dressed people with a matching black umbrella in one hand and holding Bruce's hand with the other.  
At least with me here to entertain the guests, he would get more time to properly mourn for his father. 

True, I didn't know this child, but it would be cruel to leave him to fend for himself in a moment like this.  
If my sister and her husband had died leaving Nathan behind, I would have done the same.  
Fiona... did my family think I was dead? Were they helding a funeral like this one to mourn me? Or did Martha replace me? Maybe she had taken my body for a few seconds before being shot.  
Oh my god. I died a few days before Nathan's birthday. This was the worst. He didn't deserve this...

I looked around noticing the contrast between the Kane and Wayne sides of the family. If the Kanes were a redhead party, the Waynes were a blackhead parade. They looked gloomier in black clothes, while the Kanes' hair took most of the attention. The only thing we all had in common was the fancy and expensive clothes.  
I should be more worried by the fact that everyone had outfits ready in case of a funeral. And black umbrellas. Everyone had one, like in the movies. Even the people who weren't family had one. 

For each new person I met, a small emotion ignited inside me. Like the remnants of the feelings Martha had towards that person. Fondness for her siblings, exasperation for her mother, gratitude for her friends and irritation for some of Thomas' business partners. The only intense emotion that managed to override my own seemed to be her love for her son. Not that I could blame her. I was aware of my habit of projecting Nathan in Bruce. 

The funeral seemed to be coming to an end.

As Thomas' casket was lowered to the ground, I couldn't help but feel as if a little part of me went with him. But who's part was it? Alma's or Martha's?  
For a fleeting moment I imagined my true body inside that casket.  
The pillow where Thomas' head rested looked comfortable.

The next hour seemed to go in a blur. Then again, lately all my days felt like that. The guests gave us their last words of support and regret before leaving, allowing Bruce and me to retire to Wayne Manor. The whole ride home I took Bruce into my embrace, allowing him to cry for the first time since the funeral began.  
The manor seemed more silent than usual, like part of the life there had finally left. I took off my heels and offered to make Bruce a sandwich (Nathan loved sandwiches) but he said he wanted to go to sleep. 

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He nodded and left. This is why my sister was the mother. Not me. 

I gave Alfred permission to retire for the night. There was something I needed to do.

I ended up finding that cursed pearl necklace inside a drawer, as if someone had thrown it in. I took it out with care, playing with the string of pearls. This necklace always had terrible fates. It was either sold to the black market, destroyed during the robbery or broken apart by some other person.  
I sat in Martha's vanity, holding it closer for inspection. 

A factor outside my control had kept it in one piece. By all accounts, this was a miracle that was never meant to be.  
I had been in mourning for far too long. Alma Bunker's life was never coming back. Andrew, Nathan, Fiona and the rest of my loved ones were as good as dead. Today was their funeral as well. Our funeral.  
I had someone I needed to take care about. Bruce needed me. Not Alma. Martha. His mother. Someone who would love him unconditionally. 

His path would be dark and full of despair but I could help to make it brighter. I could lighten his burden.  
My knowledge... I could use it to help him. Bruce was still a child. I would do what I could at the moment. Future events, both real and fictional, were stored in my brain. Not only for him but for this world as a whole. Real lifes were in the line here. Casualties in an endless war between good and evil. And aliens. God, I would need to get used to that.

One thing I was certain: Batman needed to exist. He played an indispensable role in the fate of this reality. Removing him for the equation would lead to ruin, one way or another. I wouldn't be a superhero but there were other things someone like me could do.  
For goodness' sake! I was a beautiful, white, rich female. All the odds were in my favor. 

The phrase "for the greater good" rang in my head. I couldn't afford to hesistate. 

I looked at the mirror, meeting my blue eyes for the first time. Alma would have loved to have these eyes. I held on to the pearl necklace, passing each individual pearl through my fingers. 

"My name is Martha Wayne. Widow of Thomas Wayne and mother of Bruce Wayne. Gotham is my kingdom and I am the queen".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can officially say that Alma Bunker has been reborn as Martha Wayne. Alma will sometimes make an appearance, though.  
> Don't expect regular updates, sorry. I'm awful with deadlines.


End file.
